The Secret Girl from District 12
by Chrysalis Keaton
Summary: Taking off from the Hunger Games, this is the story of a girl named Nira. She's been hidden from the Capitol in District 12 and spends her days in the forests as a wild girl. OC, obviously. Rated T for now.
1. The Secret Girl

**AN: The thought occurred to me while rereading the Hunger Games. What if there was more to the Goat Man? How did he manage to afford a herd of goats in near poverty? Sure he worked a lifetime in the mines, but surely even that wouldn't be enough to buy multiple priceless livestock. And when he had them, how would he manage to feed them in the barrenness that was District 12? There's more to this story and I decided to add to Haymitch's character because I'm evil like that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games, the sequels, or the characters unfortunately. I only own Nira.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: The Secret Girl<p>

Even the most infamous of people of the lower districts had a secret, and District 12 was no different. In a world full of oppression and impending violence, the most lowly of people had just as much a chance at being overlooked as they did being thrust into the spotlight. The Hunger Games' Tributes were those who shone the brightest, if only for a short while for the majority. But for every two children chosen every year, hundreds, thousands, were overlooked by the Capitol and breathed a sigh of selfish relief. Relief that it wasn't them, even as they mourned the loss of their friends and sometimes, their family.

One touched by a shining individual's light noticed that the unchosen here in District 12 were utterly overlooked, and in a moment of desperation, took advantage of a situation that no one, save a few, even noticed. She was a slight girl, hidden from the Capitol herself for a time, before the Victor refused to grant the President a favor. Her name was Elinore, and she was killed before the Capitol even knew one of District 12's biggest secrets. Haymitch, tormented by the loss of his family and Elinore and haunted by the Arena, was driven to drink to hide his pain from the world, and almost managed to forget the important piece of him that his lover hid away in the wilds.

Nira.

* * *

><p>At 24, a lone female figure ran wild in the forest with goats, careful to stay from the fence, warnings from her Papa ringing loud and clear in her mind. Tall and slim, as most of the inhabitants of District 12 were, Nira shared the dark coloring with her distant kinsmen. Her hair ran down her back, dark brown and thick enough to pull the strands away from her scalp. When she hacked it short in the hottest of summer months with a dull cooking knife it would frizz and cling close to her head, stifling her scalp but allowing a breeze on her neck. But that time had not come as of yet, given the mild climate this year, and the wildness reflected in her grey eyes reflected in the leaves and twigs caught in her locks.<p>

Today a quiet stillness surrounded the township that was her home, but which she was not allowed to enter freely without her Papa's presence and permission. This was the common Silence that always fell around this time of year; she knew when she next went to her Papa he would have that hated bottle of clear bitterness that stole his senses. The only place with any life in the early morning was the Hob, the black market Papa had spoken of a couple times, but even there it was subdued. The mine stood still, void of the noise of the machinery. When she paused, looked through a bush to the streets, the streets were hushed. Few people walked about this early in the morning, but what few were out were wandering in brighter, cleaner clothing than usual.

Except for the other girl. The Forest Girl, Catnip. Or was it Katniss? She could never tell, and the boy, Gale always called her by both names. Nira imagined it would be very strange to have two names.

The Kat girl moved quickly, in her usual thick jacket and boots. Nira knew what was going to happen; in moments the girl would slip through a bit of the fence that was hidden from general view of the town. Anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes later, the boy Gale would do the same elsewhere on the boundary separating the town from the wild.

Excited, Nira ran from the fence, leading her Papa's goats to a familiar wide meadow. She whistled sharply and the trip broke off from her, heading to the center of the meadow to wait for her return. Nira headed back to the forest and began to check the usual places she could find the others. She found the girl on the way to the second place she checked. Nira tracked Kat silently and was pleased when the boy found her. They greeted each other and went hunting, and Nira followed, as was her usual agenda. She loved watching the pair of them work together as a team, a pair of friends. Nira could sometimes imagine herself in Kat's place, running alongside Gale, weapon in hand. Or down by the water, fishing. In the forests, setting snares.

Nira had followed them for years, so long that she knew every trick in their book. From watching, Nira taught herself how to shoot a bow, how to catch a fish, how to set a trap. She wasn't quite as good as they and didn't do it often because she hated taking life. But sometimes Papa spent all his money of the bitter bottle or the doctor for his cough and it was left to her to fill in the emptiest spots of their bellies. She foraged religiously, eating what the others human ate and what animals ate, memorizing and committing to memory what plant-life was safe. When she was merely protecting herself or the trip of goats in the forest, she preferred the slingshot that hung from her belt with the sack of river-stones. She could aim the shot to kill but usually sent it to hurt, bruise, and frighten any predators with an eye for a snack.

Kat and Gale had settled on a hill close to a clearing for lunch and Nira's stomach grumbled. She reached for her sack and rummaged around, bringing out some goat cheese and an old, sweet, wrinkled apple, similar to the meal the pair shared, sitting next to each other. They spoke but were far off, and Nira only heard the vague hints of their voices. She sat with her back against a tree, facing the forest and clear from their sight. Closing her eyes, she let the voices wash over, imagining they were talking to her and that, finally, she had friends.

But for a moment their words grew terse and it seemed like they argued. The spat was brief but unsettling. The peacefulness of the day was broken, though they quickly made up. The scene was abruptly cut short with a hum of machinery and the two jumped up, running for the forest.

Nira's eyes widened and she stared at the sky, just in time to see the large form in the air, slowing for the nearby district. She shifted through the forest like doe on the run, headed for the meadow. She ran along the tree-line, whistling sharply as the trip stampeded towards her. Luckily the strange craft had not spanned the clearing to see the strange group of domestic animals beyond the fence and Nira breathed a sigh of relief.

For the rest of the day Nira wandered the forest with the trip, never realizing that this was the last day she would see her secret friends for quite some time. After today, it would be months until she Kat, and after today, Gale wouldn't be visiting the forest as frequently.

* * *

><p>Nira waited impatiently by the meeting spot near the fence for her Papa. It was late afternoon and the people were subdued; half the people she saw through the forest's growth either battled tears or cried freely. She saw Gale race from the main square to the forest and was tempted to follow. Eventually Nira gave in, driven by the terrible pain on his face. She stalked him through the forest, to the place on the hill he and Kat had sat several hours ago. He stood there, looking out into the sky, back straight and hands clenched at his sides.<p>

All of a sudden Gale howled and, like the force he was named after, the sound whipped through the forest with devastating anguish. Tears sprang to her eyes at his pain and she fought to stay hidden, fought to keep from running to him in the clearing. Chillingly, the birds in the trees took up the cry and it magnified, echoing throughout the wild and further off, through the town. Nira watched as her friend collapsed to the ground in sobs, for all the world like he had lost his best friend. It never occurred to her that he had.

Gale shook with sobs and wails of emotional agony until dusk began to fall. Through it all Nira kept vigil. Finally he fell still, small hiccups escaping. He didn't move and she dared to break through the trees, cautiously approaching, ready to flee at the slightest movement. He didn't stir. When she had approached she looked upon him, for the first time up close. Gale was fast asleep, eyes closed, long lashes resting on his wet cheek. His face was blotchy from weeping.

Carefully, Nira swept a damp lock from his brow. She sat next to him, alternating her gaze from him to the trees to watch for predators. As night fell she grew twitchy at the growing sounds in the forest. Gale trembled, caught in sleep. He shouted hoarsely in his sleep, and on impulse Nira leaned forward to smoothly his brow and lay a gentle kiss upon it. Gale jerked into wakefulness and burst into motion, grabbing her arm as she pulled away to flee.

His eyes widened on his captive. "Katniss?" he whispered, seeing what he wanted to in the gathering dark, in the girl with the curly dark hair and grey eyes. He tugged her into him and kissed her fiercely.

Nira jerked back in shock with a little cry, hand covering her lips. She stared at Gale, fingers against her lips.

"You're…not Katniss," Gale whispered, slumping in misery. Still, the mystery distracted him from the full force of his grief. He took in her wild, loose hair and dirty dress, belt, and shoes. "Who are you?"

Her eyes widened in fear as Nira realized what was happening. He saw her! The One Thing Papa ever asked her not to do. One Thing: "Never let anyone see you," she whispered, echoing the words he said to her every time he released her into the forest. She turned and ran.

Gale gave chase but he was heavier, and not as familiar with the forest in the growing darkness. She lost him quickly. When he realized this he shouted helplessly, "Meet me on Sunday, please!"

* * *

><p><strong>Read and Review, please! Any kind of constructive criticism is welcome.<strong> I haven't written many fanfics and am looking to improve myself as a writer.<strong> **

**Anyone with questions or suggestions, go on, go on. **

**Please, people, don't be afraid to let me know what you think!**


	2. Papa's Confessions

**AN: Thanks for all the great reviews and your "favorite" adds, you guys! It's very encouraging and I'm really hoping that I don't let you down. And I'm also hoping that I can keep up with this at a decent pace, I'm afraid all I can do is promise to try. School and work and stuff may interfere a little until Summer Break starts. Still, I'll do my best to keep you entertained!**

**Oh, and silent thoughts will be expressed in **_**italics**_**, just so you know. The only one that will be doing this is Nira, I think, but don't hold me to it! .**

**If anyone knows how to put an OC as a character for this book series, please let me know! I only have Gale claimed as a main character in the story currently.**

**This chapter has a good amount of Nira's back-story, sorry in advance about Goat Man's/Papa's accent, but I just couldn't make him a flat character with flawless English. Though I don't know why Nira speaks more formally than her "Papa". I guess she spends more time listening to other people.**

**Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own Hunger Games, the sequels, or the characters unfortunately; only Nira.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2: Papa's Confessions<p>

Nira sprinted through the forest, back to the fence as fast as possible. _Papa, he must be waiting!_ She thought back on the kiss, how foolish she had been to get caught watching over Gale. Shame rolled through her at the thought of disobeying her father in such a way, breaking the only dictate he ever held over her. But Nira had never considered that the possibility had been inevitable, or that it was even expected at some point.

_I won't tell him._ Instantly she felt guilty for keeping such a thing from him, but really, it was for the best. Papa had more to worry about than his daughter getting caught by someone who couldn't even ask around about her. He had his illness and pain, and his addiction. From his semi-coherent ramblings in recent years in the influence of the drink, Nira knew that she wasn't even his biological child! She loved him anyways, and knew that in his way, when he could, he loved her. But his advancing age, joint pain, and constant coughing had, in recent years, given way to heavier drinking and more distant behavior.

Anyways, what would Gale say, "Hey, do you know about a Seam girl who runs around in the wilds"? Word wouldn't get back to Papa, he was just the cantankerous old Goat Man, usually deep in his cups. He could barely make it around town sometimes, how would he know about what goes on in the wilds? And who would believe Gale anyways? He'd only be outright stating that he breaks the law everyday he slips through the fence.

Nira had, by the time she reached the fence, comforted and reassured herself. She saw a candle lit outside the sturdy lean to, constructed for her father's use. It was rather large, half the open side boarded, the other half covered with a thick tarp. It was another thing people in the Seam had never questioned; how had the Goat Man afforded such a quality shelter AND so many goats, and why so much space for one man?

She looked around, double, then triple-checking her surroundings. The near-by residencies were mostly abandoned in this area of the district, since it was so far from the mine and livelihood of the common. But she still preferred to be cautious, especially after today's disaster. She let the goats through the fence first, as a mask of sound before she bent double and crawled in the center of the trip to the lean to. Mounted on all the walls surrounding their home were feeding baskets, filled with Sweet Grass that lured the animals, establishing their connection of this place as their home. As they gravitated toward their food, Nira drew close to the tarp and slid in, taking the candle in with her.

"Nira," affirmed a gruff voice, and she turned her attention to her Papa, who was propped in his corner with a thread-bare blanket hanging from his thin shoulders.

"Papa," she returned, unhooking a gathering satchel from her belt and handing it to him.

Hands shaking, he parted the mouth of the bag, reaching in for the harvest of ripe gooseberries. He took one out, observing it in the candlelight. His mouth twisted suddenly, and he placed it back in the bag before handing it back to her. "Thank ye girl, those are me favorite. Put 'em on the shelf."

Nira did so, observing the full bottles of liquor stashed there. Frowning, she counted again. Four—the same amount that had been there this morning. She looked carefully at her Papa again. He was propped against the wall, much the frail old man, but tonight he was pale, shivering. His eyes were bloodshot as usual, but he wasn't florid with drink. No bottle sat next to him, and no exhaled alcohol fumes polluted the close air.

"Papa?" she questioned. "Are you well?"

"Hell no, my little bird," he said hoarsely. All of a sudden he coughed. It sounded deeper, painful. "This ain't a night for drink."

_But you always drink on this night!_ Nira wanted to shout, but she held her tongue. It wasn't that she wanted him to drink, just that his avoidance of it worried her. It was his comfort, his self-prescribed medicine. Without it he was weakened, withdrawn, a shell of a man eclipsed by age and pain.

"Why not?" she asked instead.

He was quiet for a moment before saying, "It shames 'er sacrifice. It ain't never been done before, that's a-certain. Now there'll be trouble brewing, mark me words, lass."

"What, Papa? What's happening?" she said.

"Katniss," he said shortly. Nira's heart thumped hard on one beat and she swallowed. "She was there, an she gave 'er life for 'er sister."

"Kat is dead?" she cried, forgetting where she was.

"Not yet." The Goat Man peered at her suspiciously and sighed heavily, guessing as to what had happened. He gave the girl too long a leash, but it hardly mattered anymore. "She gave 'erself to the Reaping, to the Games. Made a martyr outta herself. The Capitol ain't gonna like it. The end is coming," he said darkly, "though I'll not be long to see it."

"Don't talk like that!" she whispered fiercely, embracing him and laying her head on his bony chest.

He patted her head, looking to the furthest corner of the room, trying to sort his words. "Someone's gotta be true. Someone's gotta be honest. Truth is, I needed ta lay off the drink for more'n one reason t'night. Lass, I got some hard facts ta be tellin' ye, an it ain't gonna be easy."

"Papa, I know you're not my father," she burst out.

"Right enough ye be," he said. "Can only assume I've been talkin' in me cups. But that ain't the only thing I need ta tell ye. Yer father wanted me ta let ye know sooner, but I couldna pull me lips from the bottle. He's still alive, so's ye know. But I'll be on about that in a jiff, just let me tell ye about a bit o' history. You'll see why."

He then proceeded to tell Nira about the world she'd been born into, a world made of the Capitol and Districts, where different places produced different things for the powerful Capitol. Years ago, an uprising had occurred, and an entire community had been obliterated as an example to the survivors. As further punishment, the Hunger Games were created. Every year, two children from each district were chosen to participate, to ultimately be led to an arena where 23 of the 24 were basically slaughtered. The lone survivor, the Victor, was treated well, paraded about like a pet of the Capitol. They led richer lives after their victory, but every year for the next annual Hunger Game got the dubious pleasure of mentoring the pair headed from their district.

"Yer father is the only living Victor from District 12," he said gently. "Ofttimes the Capitol wanted a Victor to do terrible things once they triumphed, but ole Haymitch wasn't gonna play their Games. So they sought revenge on his family. Yer grandmother, grandfather, and uncle were killed by the Capitol. Yer mother was too, when 'er was importance to Haymitch was found out. Somehow their love went undetected at the beginning, long enough for Elinore to hide ye in 'er belly and give birth ta ye. She did it in secret, somehow. Soon she was well enough she started protectin' ye from the Capitol. She had the midwife's vow of secrecy.

"Then she came ta me with ye, only but a babe. I had been showin' signs of the Black from the mines, and I'd always been gentle wif the children, like. Not so nice ta grown folk, but I'da never hurt a chile for nothin'. I wasn't gonna have none o' my own, but when she forced ye inta me arms, it was like I'd seen the face of an angel. When she tole me she was gonna give ye ta me coz ye all were in danger of bein' found out, well, no one couldna pried ye from my arms 'less I was dead. She was scared that ye'd be killed too, else used 'gainst Haymitch in the future. She gave me the money from yer father for yer keepin', tole me to say it was me life savings and to find a softer occupation that I might make a bit o' money from. Haymitch knew o' the plan but was off on the Tour o' the Capitol and wouldna been able to get outta it.

"Then two days later, the day afore Haymitch got back, she was murdered. He turned ta the bottle for his grief, and outta fear for yer safety, vowed ta never visit. He helped when he could hide it, but ofttimes was too drunk ta remember or ta risk it. But it hardly mattered. By then I'd gotten the goats and the house from the money from yer ma. The midwife that delivered ye—Katniss' ma—helped me wif ye the first years that ye carried on and cried so. Then once ye'd grown enough for me ta handle ye, she got herself settled an started a family 'er own. Now it's 'er baby in the Games. I hope Haymitch gets his head ta thinkin and remembers all that the Everdeen's've done for his own. Mebbe he'll get the bottle from his mouth and help for once rather than drown."

It was quiet as Nira rested against her Papa, digesting all that he'd told her while tears streaked down her cheeks. Mother: dead. Father: drunk. Not too much different than she'd been living these past years. Fortune was that there were enough dark-haired, gray-eyed people in the Seam. But still, as an unregistered citizen, to avoid getting pulled into the Games of the Capitol, she couldn't afford to be found out, _especially_ as Haymitch's own flesh and blood. Nira knew then how close to catastrophe she'd come this evening with Gale, and her only consolation was that he couldn't babble about it without incriminating himself. _I'm going to have to meet with him now_, she thought. What had he yelled after her? Something about Sunday. _I don't think he'd turn me in, but I have to be sure of it._

The Goat Man had been drifting when suddenly his thought had aligned with his adopted daughter's and his eyes shot open. "Nira, ye gotta find someone ta trust here. Someone strong, but not yer father. Trust Haymitch, but don't go ta him. Ye gotta have a friend here, in case something happens—" He brought out into great hacking coughs that were aggravated by all of his recent speech and his sudden worry.

"Shh," Nira soothed. "Nothing bad is going to happen, Papa, you'll see." She debated with herself a moment before speaking. "Anyway, I think…well, Papa, I may already have a friend, maybe."

There was but a moment before he sat bolt upright, grabbing her shoulders. "Well who is it, lass?" He punctuated his demand with a small shake.

"Um… a boy named Gale?" she ventured, watching him carefully as thoughts flickered across his face.

"Hmph." Papa said, content. "Not a bad choice, lass. Already on the other side o' the fence, so ta speak. Bit worried 'bout the attention he may be getting, if Katniss survives the least o' the Games. But he knows loyalty, is a fair fellow, and can protect what he cares about." He peered at her curiously. "Do I need ta send to Katniss' ma, ta talk ta ye about the ways o' men and women?"

"What? No, Papa, it's not like that!" Remembering the kiss, she flushed with embarrassment and looked down. "He's only got eyes for Katniss, anyway."

"Mmm," he said noncommittally. His worry somewhat dispelled, the Goat Man grew sleepier, and his voice became breathier. He was struggled not to wheeze every few words. "Well, if ye can stay outta the light, it's a good choice. Even Katniss, she's a good 'un. But make sure ye only meet deep in the wilds now, ye hear?"

"Yes Papa." She sensed him slipping into sleep and pulled away from him, tucking the blanket in close to him. She then stood, pushing the board on their low roof that allowed access to the hidden attic of the lean to. Taking a foothold on the horizontal beam running the length of the wall, she boosted herself up into the close space. Once in the small space, she shifted around to place the board back on the floor, obscuring the way up. Lighter of heart and exhausted from the tumultuous emotions evoked from the day, she quickly fell asleep amongst the familiar sounds of goats outside and her Papa's snores.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ahh! Okay, so do you like it? I'm a bit sorry we didn't get to see Gale, but this bit was SUPER important apparently, since I spent so many words writing it. Back-stories are important, aren't they? Gale's mad at me, I just know it. He really wants to know what's going to happen next, but I can't tell him! He's just gonna have to find out with the rest of you! As usual, reviews are welcome—I loved the couple of ones I got from some of you! I'm so happy that you're demanding more!<strong>


	3. Memories and Worries

**AN: Okay, folks, SO SORRY for not updating sooner, but school + work has been INSANE. Been sick and everything from utter, evil STRESS. But summer is HERE and I'll be able to be your best friend again. 'Course I'm not gonna give any specific deadlines or promises since Diablo 3 is out, and I've rediscovered my love for Rusty Hearts! :-)**

**Disclaimer: Not Suzanne Collins, don't own Hunger Games, don't own Collins' characters, blah, blah, blah…**

Chapter 3:

A few hours after beginning her night's rest Nira woke. The earliest of the morning hours were painted dark as night; in but half an hour the eastern horizon of sky would begin lightening.

She slipped from her hidden room quietly, so as not to wake her Papa quite yet. He slept peacefully in the corner of the room he had stationed himself, propped up with his head tilted to the left. She gathered the empty buckets stacked in a far corner of the room and exited the house. The nanny goats, knowing the procedure, followed her to the back of the lean to where she sat between two tall, thick bushes. She faced the fence, which was rather close, and the walls of the home and the thickets to either side of her hid her most effectively from almost any passer-by.

Should anyone ever come around the back of the house, there was a Nira-sized hollow underneath the bush to her right that led to a crawlspace. The crawl space opened into a tiny room under the house should Nira heed an extra hiding space. She had never had to use it for the purpose it was created; rather she used it for storage. She and her Papa's money were stored underneath the house, along with several keepsakes of her mother that the Goat Man had been covertly given by first Nira's mother and later, her father.

A family picture album, locket, ring, shawl, and aged baby doll were all that was left of the maternal half of her blood. The album was ancient, and hadn't been updated since a little girl – her mother – had been approximately ten years of age. Nira remembered looking through it at a young age, asking her Papa this question and that, never getting more than an affirmation that the young girl was her mother.

A more updated picture of the girl remained in the antique locket, of when she may have been sixteen or seventeen. The opposing side was empty, and old remnants of photograph paper remained in the cinches of the frame as if it had once been occupied but later emptied by a hasty ripping. In her younger years she often wore it to bed, with the locket open, looking at the girl and rubbing the pad of her thumb across the empty frame, wondering whose face had once graced to opposing side. Nira hardly ever broke the locket open anymore; she had memorized the face of the young woman at a tender age. Since her teen years Nira had but to stare in any reflective surface to be reminded of the girl from the locket.

The other jewelry, the ring, was a simple affair. Still in the jeweler's box, it sat untouched by time, a simple silver band on which was mounted a single diamond, understated in size but exceedingly vibrant and reflective in light. Nira had never retrieved the ring from the pillow to try it on; she always felt that is exuded an air of sadness and grief at lost life and opportunity. Some days she could hear it sing in the sparkle it gave off, but it was a brief occurrence and very short-lived.

The shawl was a precious keepsake with a story. The Goat Man had always regaled her of her attachment to the thing, even as an infant. Nira, as a babe, would refuse to sleep unless cocooned within the thick woven wool, and the best way to quiet her cries would always be to wrap her soundly in it. Once she had grown older, she had parted with this bit of her past, but always kept it near. Though in the rough colder months Nira retrieved it to add to the pile of blankets used in an effort to keep warm.

The baby doll was her constant companion as a child. She was never allowed to venture into the township and make friends with other children, and Dolly proved to be the best playmate and confidant that a girl of her tender years and circumstance could hope for. Until the age of ten Nira was kept in the lean-to, either in her secret attic or basement during the daylight hours, unless given special permissions to accompany Papa and hide amongst the goats and sparse foliage. For the space of four or five years it was believed that the Goat Man's lean-to was haunted in broad daylight. The families of District 12 would distinctly hear girlish giggles and laughter. Upon investigation of the supposedly one-room construct, they never saw a flesh-and-blood girl, even as Nira held perfectly still above their heads, clutching her doll close, their conversation temporarily stalled by the intruder. Once she was released to accompany the goats into the wilds outside the fence, the doll joined the storage in the basement, for Nira couldn't bear the thought of possibly losing Dolly.

Nira knew now that these were all keepsakes and reminders of her mother. The album was the only common record of Nira's maternal family. The locket she imagined was a family heirloom that Elinore had filled with her and her love, or a memento given to Elinore by her biological father to give proof of their affections. The ring Nira understood on some intuitive level to be Haymitch's ring of proposal to Elinore – a question that never got asked, and a happy moment that had never come to pass. The shawl was the swaddling she had been presented to Papa in. And Dolly, with her faded features, broken eye, broken music box, and missing stuffing, a likely companion of a young Elinore, as well as the daughter she only had for a short time.

That daughter, fully grown, milked the goats easily in her nook behind the lean-to, the nannies willingly going to her gentle hands, so different from her impatient father's. In no time the chore was done and the goats dispersed as Nira ensconced herself within a cloak and staggered around to the front of her home, two buckets of goat milk in hand. Papa was slowly awakening, his snores intermittently breaking in awareness, to be replaced by great racking coughs.

"Nira?" he rasped as she walked in. He broke into a coughing fit and she hurriedly filled a tin with the fresh milk, placing it at his lips as the coughs subsided somewhat. It was then that she noticed the dark spatters on his hands.

Nira's hands shook as she wiped the blood from his skin. Blood that had come from his lungs when he'd coughed. She knew as well as any in District 12 what this sinister symptom meant. The sick Goat Man gently took the handkerchief from her hands. "Now lass, we knew it was gonna come to this. No use crying over it, girl."

She nodded distantly and avoided his gaze, lips clamped tight.

"Go on, girl, to the forest wif ye. Leave the goats. The Capitol will be looking closely now, and it wouldna do for a Goat Man ta be wifout his goats."

Nira glanced at him briefly before scrambling out the flap, missing the weary sigh and worried glance he shot at her as her back disappeared into the pre-dawn gloom.

**A/N: Sorry if this was a little brief, but I'd been sitting on some of this chapter for a while and needed to end it to avoid writer's block. Got my ideas lined up for the next; Gale's ready to make his return to the text! **

**If "favorite" adds are fuzzies, then reviews are love; so show me your love: I challenge you!**


End file.
